


Season's Change

by vifetoile



Series: Yuletide Extravaganza [5]
Category: Cardcaptor Sakura
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Christmas, Complete, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:35:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vifetoile/pseuds/vifetoile
Summary: OR, a Supervillain and a Sidekick walk into a Denny's.Tomoyo calls Eriol out on his magical shenanigans. They find out they have a lot in common, as fall turns into winter. High school AU set during the Sakura Card arc.
Relationships: Eriol Hiiragizawa/Daidouji Tomoyo
Series: Yuletide Extravaganza [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584574
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Card Captor Sakura or anything having to do with CLAMP. It’s been an awfully long time since I wrote CCS fanfic, and this does not take anything from the Clear Card arc into account (because I am old school that way).  
> AU: Two points: one, the main characters are in high school, not elementary school. Two, Eriol is not an adult who froze himself in the body of a child. He is the same age as Sakura, Syaoran, and Tomoyo (and aging at the same rate as they), but he retains memories of his lifetime as Clow Reed.  
> AN: I know a lot of people (including the writers at CLAMP) think Tomoyo’s devotion to Sakura is sufficient for the former. But I’ve been in unrequited love, and it sucks balls. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. I want better for Miss Daidouji.

Meet Tomoyo Daidouji. She is sitting under the flame colored leaves of a red maple tree, resting against the tree trunk. She sits patiently in her duck-egg-blue high school uniform. Her violet eyes are alert. Behind a white headband her hair falls in a thick black curtain, where waves resolve into dainty ringlets. She has a long nose and high cheekbones. Her white hands are busy, of course. She has a sketchbook before her and the paper is covered with cherry blossoms and outfit ideas. In her pocket a small pink pocket recorder is already at work.  
Footfalls. Tomoyo looks up. “He’s here,” she murmurs to no one in particular. She gets to her feet carefully, dusting off her skirt before she looks up at the visitor. “Hiiragizawa-kun, hello,” she says with a smile.  
“Miss Daidouji, what a pleasure. Have I interrupted a flow of genius ideas?” Eriol asks, craning his neck to get a look at her sketchbook. She hides it behind her back in a gesture calculated to make him think she has nothing else to hide. The recorder, meanwhile, records away.  
“No need to tease me,” she replies.  
Eriol smiles. He is almost always smiling, but little quirks in his expression show how his mood shifts between focus and abstraction, between amusement and study. “You wanted to see me?” he says.  
Tomoyo sizes him up. She is pretty familiar with his face by now—his blue eyes, which always hold some secret laughter, the fall of his blue-black hair over his glasses. His features are boyish, with only his strong chin suggesting a well-formed willpower. Tomoyo’s heart beats a little faster when she sees how his expression changes—him studying her studying him—she tells herself her heart racing is mere adrenaline. She steels herself.  
“I’ve no wish to waste your time, Hiiragizawa-kun. I know it is the English way to get promptly to business, so here it is. I know you’re a sorcerer.”  
Eriol’s eyes widened and then he laughed. “A sorcerer? Me? You’ve confused me with that Harry Potter fellow.”  
“You’re a sorcerer,” she repeated firmly, “and you’re behind the magical attacks that have Sakura-chan at her wits’ end. I’m calling shenanigans, Hiiragizawa-kun. Tell me what you’re up to. Or else.”  
Eriol is still grinning, but his smile has gotten a little tight. “I’m sure I’ve no idea what you mean.”  
“Thread, Eriol. ‘Other uses for thread beside sewing,’ you said to us. I remember! And that night Li-kun is bound up with thread, jerking him around like a puppet. Did you think none of us would notice?” She asked. “Sakura-chan may be a wholesome, dense little cinnamon roll, but I am not. Add to that the dark circles under your eyes, the dodgy answers—i know the signs of lying and staying up too late to work magic. What have you to say for yourself?”  
Eriol stares at her. His grin fades—first from his eyes, then sinking down until it vanishes right off his face. Tomoyo realizes, none too soon, that she has never actually seen Eriol without a grin. He looks a great deal less boyish.  
“Miss Daidouji,” he says, and with one long stride he closes the distance between them. He is leaning over her—one hand braced on the tree trunk, the other resting easily in his trouser pocket—“your powers of deduction astound me. But have you figured out if I am a good wizard, or a bad wizard?”  
“Um,” says Tomoyo.  
“I could be a very, very bad wizard,” he adds, and his tone is still light, as if they’re discussing autumn leaves; but the look in his eyes sends Tomoyo’s spine ramrod straight, and she swears the day has gotten colder—“how do you know I won’t snare you in spells, and make sure you never tell a soul? Your lovely voice could become my servant.”  
Tomoyo swallows. Over her thudding heart, she speaks. “You are a gentleman,” she says, in an almost steady voice. “A gentleman would not use his magic on a defenseless soul who could not fight back.”  
They stare into one another’s eyes. Between one heartbeat and another, something flickers—and Tomoyo knows she is safe.  
Eriol draws back, his sigh just barely felt on her cheek. “You are again correct, Miss Daidouji. I won’t hurt you. That was a gamble, though—I could be a real bastard,” he adds.   
“I don’t want trouble,” she tells him. “I just want Sakura-chan to be safe and happy. Tell me what you mean to do, with the threads and all the other mischief.”  
Eriol shakes his head. “You won’t understand.”  
“Try me.”  
“I am a sorcerer wise beyond my years, master of sun and moon magics—“  
“You’re not going to scare me with that.”  
He frowns. “Not even a little?”  
“No.”   
“Can I keep going? Maybe I’ll eventually get to a descriptor that will--”  
“No. Tell me,” she says, “or I will tell Sakura and Li-kun the truth, and they will deal with you much less kindly than I will.”   
“Really?”   
“Well… Sakura will give you the benefit of the doubt, but Li-kun has been looking for an excuse to beat you up ever since you sauntered into our class. Listen. When Sakura started out in magic, she didn’t even intend to tell me about it, but I observed the truth. I’m an observant girl. Look at me now. I didn’t intend to find you out, but-- threads! Again! It was so clear!”   
“Clear to an artist who works in thread and fabric,” Eriol points out. “You can keep a secret?”   
Now Tomoyo smiles. Her eyes, though, gleam with a little sadness, and many depths. “I assure you.”   
“You haven’t even said what kind of magic Sakura performs,” Eriol says.  
“If you know, then you know. If you don’t, I shan’t tell you.”   
Eriol smiles again, and this time the smile reaches his eyes. “Smart girl. Very well. I’ll tell you this much: I’ve come from England to meet with Sakura.”  
Tomoyo frowns. “Go on.”   
“I don’t mean her any harm. You have my word as a gentleman.”   
“But you might harm her without meaning to.”   
“I mean to help Sakura. It’s time for the next phase of her training in magic.”  
“What,” She asks slowly, “does that mean, exactly?”   
“It means I’m helping her to grow and develop--”   
“By having Li-kun, her friend, slash at her with his sword? By drowning Tomoeda in rain?”   
“Without real challenges, she won’t grow. And--” Eriol frankly quails under the accusation in her violet eyes.   
“Who are you to challenge her? Who are you to threaten her?”   
Eriol looks down at her, and his expression has changed to one of wonder. “You really do love her, don’t you?”   
Tomoyo’s face clears into a calm expression. “I do,” she says. “I love her enough to challenge even you.”   
“And yet you didn’t bring her along today. You could have. She trusts you, and she’d protect you.”   
She shakes her dark head. “There are things that dear Sakura-chan doesn’t need to know.”   
“Like the depths of your devotion for her? You are a remarkable one, Miss Daidouji. Alright… I shall tell you the very core of my mission here. Keep it secret…”   
“I will.”   
Eriol leans in, and his breath tickles Tomoyo’s neck. “I need Sakura-chan’s help. I need it desperately. So I need her to become a sorceress who can work great magic. I need her to be well, and I need her to be my friend by the end of it.”   
Tomoyo steps back and looks at him anew. Those shadows under his eyes, within his eyes-- were they there a minute ago? He looks suddenly tired, in a way that goes past activity and insomnia. She has the distinct impression that she’s looking at him, at last, without a mask of any kind.   
“Is that everything?” she asks.   
“Everything else is secondary.”   
“Very well.”   
“Very-- what? Very well what?”   
“I know enough.”   
He blinks. “Don’t you want--”  
“I know enough.”   
“I mean, the mysteries of my dark, tragic past? The spirits that attend on me?”   
“Mmhm?”   
“Aren’t you a little curious?”  
“Oh, of course I am, but I know enough. I’ll keep your secret, Hiirigazawa-kun. And you’ll keep mine. Sakura never needs to know that we had this chat.” She holds out a hand.   
He stares at it a minute.” “Devil take it, Miss Daidouji--” he takes her hand and shakes it; the pact is sealed. “It’s a good thing you aren’t a witch in your own right, because you would be a terrifying opponent.”  
“I have one request.”   
“Do you want to know another dark secret?”   
“No. I want to confer with you after your next magical scheme.”  
“Oh, well, I’m sure the next day we can arrange…”   
“Immediately after, Hiirigazawa-kun. There’s a twenty-four-hour diner around the corner from the craft shop which will do nicely.”   
“You mean that American restaurant?”   
“I believe it’s called ‘Denny’s.’ And yes. I need help keeping up with my homework, with all the magical hijinks littering Tomoeda these days. You can be my study partner.”   
“Your…” he begins, slowly, to grin. “You’re blackmailing the greatest sorcerer across two oceans for a study partner?”  
“I don’t want my grades to slip any more than you do. Studying together will account for why we spend extra time in each other’s company. I assume we’ll meet up there at night and confer.”   
“You sound like you’re going to be my co-conspirator, Miss Daidouji.”   
“Yes? … And? It’s the easiest way to keep Sakura-chan safe.”  
“Then, Miss Daidouji, we have a deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

Secrets are tricky little things. So are hearts, dice, souffles, and cats, but it’s secrets that concern us at the moment. Secrets may start out small-- just as a few words under flame-colored leaves-- but they have a way of growing. They grow when people wonder, they grow when secret-keepers meet, they grow when a mouth is pressed shut against it. Secrets will even flourish under such unappealing conditions as the Denny’s around the corner from the craft shop. 

Over time, this secret grows until it has a little routine of its own. Late at night, after Eriol has woven some magical net to ensnare Sakura Kinomoto, and after Sakura has dispelled that net and brought peace back to the town… when the dust had settled, Tomoyo would make her excuses and leave Sakura’s side. Tomoyo would then head to the Denny’s. She’d push in through the door, wince at the unflattering fluorescent lights, and secure a table. By the time Eriol arrives, Tomoyo already has her notebooks set up on her half of the table, as well as two coffees and pancakes. Eriol sits heavily across from her and wolfs down the pancakes before his head is clear enough to focus on homework (sorcery is hungry work). 

Tonight, even when his plate is empty, he slumps over it. He pushes up his glasses and rubs the spot between his eyes.

“Hiirigazawa-kun?” Tomoyo leans over the table, to try and get a look at his eyes. “Do you need more pancakes?”

“Huh? No, I’m fine, Miss Daidouji.” He remains slumped. 

“Would it be better if we just went home, and you got some rest?” 

“No! No,” he says, looking up. “I just need a little time to decompress. It’s been a long day.” He forces a smile and takes up his coffee mug. “To your health, Miss Daidouji.” 

“Sakura told me,” Tomoyo began, “that she was sucked into a copy of  _ Alice in Wonderland _ . She thinks that it was tied to a leaf that fell into the book. Was that some kind of illusion?”

“Yes.” 

“She transformed the Little and the Big cards.” 

“That was my hope.” He takes another sip of coffee. “I wish you could have seen it, Daidouji. It was a fine illusion-- it had texture, it had depth, it was playful-- Lewis Carroll himself would have been proud.” 

“Then I’m proud of you.” She hesitates, then pats his hand quickly and withdraws. “Are illusions really so taxing?” 

“The illusion was one thing,” Eriol says, and begins to count on his fingers. “All the images had to be clear and consistent, and the spell had to hold fast even against Sakura’s unconscious magic. And intricate work-- all bound up in one small leaf! And I planned it so that the personages in the book would be drawn from Sakura’s own heart, the people dearest to her, but saying a few things I’d plant in the illusion. I did set aside space for myself…” he grinned. “I’ve always been a little overfond of the Cheshire Cat.”

“How long have you been planning this?” Tomoyo asks. 

“An  _ Alice in Wonderland _ illusion? That goes all the way back to…” 

“I meant your journey to Japan… the big picture.”

“Um… well, I was five years old when I started to remember… never-you-mind,” he says abruptly. “I was eight when I realized I had a real problem. I was ten when I got the idea of  _ how  _ to solve my problem. And it was a year ago that Sakura found the Book of Clow and I began planning in earnest. So six years, total.” 

Tomoyo taps a finger to her chin. She considers a long moment, and after another sip of coffee, Eriol finally says, “I  _ must  _ be tired, I let slip about the Book of Clow. You’re thinking about the implications of that, aren’t you? What conclusions are you drawing?” 

“The magic is secondary,” Tomoyo says to him. “You’ve been working on your ‘problem’ since you were eight years old. You’re sixteen now.” 

He nods. 

“That’s half your life you’ve been absorbed in this problem. The problem that Sakura will fix.” 

His eyebrows lift. “Yes…  _ are  _ you curious about what the problem is?” 

“Fanatically curious, of course,” Tomoyo says, “but we don’t talk about magic. Wasn’t that your rule?”

“I thought that was  _ your  _ rule.” His eyebrows lift.

“Eriol, when Sakura has fixed this problem of yours… what will you do?”

“Pardon?”

“This problem is so great you moved to the other side of the world so that Sakura could help you. She  _ will  _ help you, and then what will you do?” 

“Um…” Eriol shrugs. “I’ll move back to England, and probably go for my A-levels. Be an upstanding citizen.” 

“Is that  _ it _ ?”

“Well, ah, that’s… I could be a doctor. I’m smart enough for it, and it’d be good to help people. Or a lawyer-- I’m told that my cold-blooded nature and evil laugh would suit me to the profession. And I’m a sorcerer, too,” he adds. “Skills of my caliber could be put to use anywhere. Weather magic is fascinating, it’s very intricate but on a large scale…” 

“Eriol.” 

“... Yes, Tomoyo?” he asks, not looking in her eyes. 

“None of those are clear answers.” 

“Maybe I don’t know. Is that a hanging offense?” he asks. 

“You have no idea what you’re going to do with your life, do you?” 

“Do  _ you _ ?” 

“Fashion design,” she says promptly, “with filmmaking as a hobby. And I might well inherit my mother’s company, so there’s business and toy design too.” 

Eriol falls silent and looks away. 

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” Tomoyo says. “I’m just curious.” 

“I don’t know what my life will be like without my problem,” Eriol says at last. “I can barely imagine the shape of it. So I don’t have a clear answer for you. I apologize.” 

“You could stay here,” Tomoyo offers after a moment. “Plenty of good things here in Japan. I mean, I suppose your family…” 

“My parents and I aren’t close,” Eriol’s mouth tucks upward in a grim facsimile of a smile. “They thought that they wanted any sort of son, but it turned out they didn’t want a son like me. They could sense something wrong about me from the very beginning.” 

“Oh,  _ Eriol _ .” 

“Don’t feel too badly. They had two more sons, so they’re happy enough. And I’m a continent away and getting on with them better than ever, so  _ I’m  _ happy enough. They were distant, not cruel.” 

“You never said…” 

“I didn’t want to say. Don’t look so sad, Miss Daidouji! Distant or absent parents are a proud English tradition. Charles Dickens would approve. When the family you’re born with is insufficient, you just make a new one.” 

Tomoyo, even as she giggles, understands a second possible meaning to that phrase-- creations like Yue and Keroberos come to mind-- but it’s the rule to not talk in depth about magic. 

“I want to say,” Eriol’s eyes meet her, but they flutter down and up again, uncertain, “Even if Sakura cannot fix my problem--” 

“She can and she will.” 

“-- I’m happy I’ve come to Japan. I would never have met you otherwise.” 

Tomoyo smiles, and she realizes it isn’t the merry, flat smile she shows to so many teachers, so many schoolmates, even her mother, more often than she’d like to admit. It’s a true smile, from her heart. “I’m happy we met, too. And I’m glad I decided to confront you about your magical extracurriculars. Otherwise… who knows, we might never have become such good friends.” 

“I think…” Eriol dawdles his pencil over the paper, “... some friendships are a matter of destiny, but some are a matter of choice. I’m glad you confronted me, too.” 

Tomoyo’s smile is broken by a huge yawn, which makes Eriol laugh, and encourages them both to set to work.


	3. Chapter 3

One night at Denny’s, a week later, Eriol is restless. He toys with his pancakes and finally says to Tomoyo, “Do you ever feel… nevermind.” 

“Feel what?” 

“I’m being self-pitying again.” 

“I want to hear it. I’m devilishly curious, you know.” 

“Fine.” He sits up a little straighter and looks at her. “Do you ever feel like you’re living with someone else’s ghost? And the thing is, the ghost is living a better life than you ever will?”

“Yes. All of the time.” 

He stares at her. “Really?” 

“Yes. Care to explain some more?” 

“Um… I really wasn’t expecting to explain myself. What’s  _ your  _ ghost?”

She smiles her inscrutable smile. She had been reliably informed it made her look like the Mona Lisa. “I wasn’t intending to explain myself.” 

“Mysterious Miss Daidouji,” he murmurs into his coffee.

“If I told you I would be less mysterious. My secrets are valuable.” 

“Maybe we can make an exchange. A secret for a secret. And I’ll go first, as payment for my rank cowardice.”

Tomoyo gestures as she imagines Queen Elizabeth would, and inclines her head regally. “You are absolved of cowardice. Proceed.” 

“So you believe in reincarnation, right?” 

“Yes. Do you?” 

“Most certainly I do. Do you want to know why?”

Tomoyo leans forward. 

“I can remember my previous lifetime. The last time that my soul was bound to a body. I can  _ remember  _ that. And let me tell you, it is a rotten deal.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“In my last lifetime, I was a man, and I lived a very long time, and I did all sorts of interesting things, met interesting people. I started to remember my previous life when I was around five years old.” 

“That young?” She frowns. “I can’t imagine it was good for your development.” 

“Oh, no. I’ve got thirteen years of clear memories in this lifetime to look back on--” he shrugs, and gestures vaguely behind him, “but a hundred years of memories from a world that doesn’t even exist anymore. I wake up in the morning asking for people who have been dust for centuries. Nothing is ever new for me-- when I lost my baby teeth, or when I got my first kiss--there was always the shadow of  _ his  _ experience dimming my own. I already know what it feels like to  _ die _ , for god’s sake. Sometimes, Miss Daidouji, I don’t even know where he ends and I begin. And let me tell you,  _ he  _ could be a real jerk sometimes.” He falls silent. 

“Were you anyone I’ve heard of?” Tomoyo asks. 

His eyes snap to hers. He looks troubled. Tomoyo senses that something in the air had changed, and not for the better. So she deflects. 

“Until you answer, I’ll assume you were Alexander the Great.” 

He laughs in surprise. “You know what, let’s say yes. Alexander the Great,  _ c’est moi _ . You know,” he says, taking a sip of coffee, “I’ve never told anyone about this… how rotten it is to live with someone else in my head, all the time.” 

“What’s something that you’re sure is you? Something that is certainly your own?” 

He thinks it over. “Lemon curd,” he says finally. “I really like lemon curd, and I know  _ he  _ didn’t. Also, my birthday, March 23rd. I get a springtime birthday. That’s a precious thing, you know.” 

“It is.” Tomoyo nods. “That was quite a lot, Eriol. Thank you for trusting me.” 

“Of course, Miss Daidouji. And now…” 

“A secret for a secret.” 

“Yes.” 

Tomoyo is quiet a moment. She draws a lock of her black hair over her shoulder and plays with it. It’s an immature gesture, restless, completely unlike her. Then she said, “I haven’t even told Sakura-chan about this.” 

Eriol looks abashed, almost ashamed. “You don’t have to say…” 

“I want to, though. I want to.” 

She remains quiet, and the sounds of the Denny’s filter into their private world: the hum of the fluorescent lights, the clink and hustle of activity from the kitchen, the pablum pop tunes on the radio. 

“I was born to be a ghost,” Tomoyo says at last. 

Eriol’s face scrunches up. “How so?”

“Well, I exaggerate sometimes for poetic effect,” she says. Then she sighs. “My mother had a cousin named Nadeshiko. She loved her cousin very, very much. But although Nadeshiko loved her back, it wasn’t in the same way.” 

Eriol says nothing, but his blue eyes shimmer with sympathy. 

“Nadeshiko fell in love with a man and married him very young. It seemed foolish at the time, but it turned out to be wise, because Nadeshiko was destined to die young, untarnished, pure of heart with a golden halo.” 

“You sound bitter all of a sudden.” 

“Try not to interrupt, this is hard enough.”

Eriol shuts up. 

“I was born before Nadeshiko died, but by the time I was five I already had a strong resemblance to her. A family resemblance, I suppose.” She paused. “Nadeshiko was Sakura-chan’s mother,” she says, “but Sakura takes after her father more. 

“My mother saw my resemblance to her lost cousin, and she grew my hair out as long as it would go. She asked me to keep my hair long,” she said, and the hand holding the black lock tightens into a fist, “so I would look like Nadeshiko, the woman my mother loved and lost. I’ve been in Nadeshiko’s shadow all my life. But in my mother’s eyes, Nadeshiko has always been lovelier than me,  _ truer  _ than me. I tried to be mature and elegant, and Mother remembers how authentic and spontaneous Nadeshiko was. I try to make clothes and films-- to make  _ art _ , to make my own stamp on the world-- and Mother reminds me that Nadeshiko was adored for just  _ existing _ . Sometimes I wonder if Nadeshiko ran to Mr. Kinomoto just to  _ get away from  _ my mother, the obsessive, smothering Sonomi. I’m sorry,” Tomoyo says, switching gears so abruptly that Eriol blinks and shakes his head-- emotional whiplash. “My mother is a strange woman sometimes, but I do love her. She lives in a world of toys and make-believe. And now I know she’s capable of healing-- she used to hate Mr. Kinomoto most passionately, but when the Flower Card attacked-- before your time--” 

“I understand.” 

“-- They were able to reconcile, at least a little. At least they could agree they loved Nadeshiko. That gave me hope,” she finishes flatly. 

“You had to grow up on your own, didn’t you,” says Eriol. “My parents provided for me, but they drew away because my magic frightened them. Your mother…” 

“I’m not sure my mother ever wanted a daughter. More like a little doll she could dress up… and when the doll looked like you-know-who, so much the better. I wish I didn’t look like her. I think my mother would be better off for it.” 

“And I thought my ghosts were bad. At least mine lives only in my head,” Eriol muses. 

“I’m used to it,” says Tomoyo, smiling in a way to deflect all pity. 

“Well.” Eriol puts a hand on Tomoyo’s, and an electric shock passes between them. Suddenly the table at Denny’s is the center of the world, and there are no ghosts, no pacts, just two souls and two cups of coffee, “ _ I’m  _ glad that you’re you. I’ve never met Nadeshiko, but I’m sure she couldn’t hold a candle to you.” 

And Tomoyo bursts into tears.

Eriol is horrified: what has he done? “There there,” he says, completely inadequately. “There there.” It doesn’t help. 

He leaves his side of the booth and sidles in beside her. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he says. 

“I never lose control like this,” says Tomoyo between sniffles. “What’s gotten into me?”

“I touched a nerve, I suppose. Do you want a handkerchief?” 

Tomoyo, as a matter of fact, keeps a handkerchief with lilac embroidery in her pocket at all times, but she realizes Eriol wants dearly to make amends, so she nods her head and Eriol proffers a clean handkerchief with his English initials monogrammed in the corner. She takes it with murmured thanks. Without a word, she leans into him so that their arms press together, and suddenly the world is warm and a great deal kinder. 

“When I think about Sakura,” Tomoyo says, “I understand why my mother loved Nadeshiko so much-- loves her still. Sakura is a radiant soul.” 

“That she is.” 

“I would happily make clothes for Sakura-chan for the rest of my life. But I need to hold onto myself, as well. Who  _ I  _ am… do you understand, Eriol-kun?” 

“I do,” he says, and at that moment Tomoyo looks up at him and their eyes meet. Between their eyes flickers a moment of perfect understanding, despite everything said and unsaid. Eriol leans down a moment, and Tomoyo’s eyes flutter--

And then the radio takes that chance to blare out “ _ turn around, briiight eeeyes _ ” and suddenly the two of them remember the world beyond them, and they break apart. Tomoyo feels a spasm of guilt as Eriol leaves her side. She feels as if she’s betrayed Sakura, betrayed her by calling Eriol by his first name, betrayed her by almost kissing him, betrayed her by wanting him to stay-- and it’s an illogical feeling, but few things are logical at three in the morning. 

“I think it’s time I went home,” says Tomoyo. “Your handkerchief--”

“Keep it,” he tells her, packing up his own things. “Give it to me next time we’re here.” 

“Hiirigazawa-kun…” 

“Yes?” 

Tomoyo picks up a folder of sheet music and holds it close to her heart as she says, “Thank you for listening.” 

“Of course, Miss Daidouji. And thank  _ you _ .” 

Tomoyo steps out of the Denny’s first, into the waiting car driven by her bodyguards. Eriol wonders, looking after her, if she’ll ever come here again to meet him for late night coffee and confidences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But the story's not over yet, folks! Hang in there... and happy holidays!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my readers and reviewers! Happy New Year!

Things changed after that fateful night at that fateful Denny’s. At school, Tomoyo strictly referred to Eriol as “Hiirigazawa-kun,” and he only referred to her as “Daidouji.” They spoke cordially enough, but some kind of sparkle and snap had gone missing. They barely made eye contact. 

And Tomoyo, for her part, considered this to be just and fair, because she had betrayed Sakura-chan.

To Sakura-chan was owed the first and best part of Tomoyo’s love. That was a fact that went back almost as far as she could remember. That was a part of Tomoyo’s very identity, like her star sign, or her soprano singing voice. 

Then why did she want to meet with Eriol on Christmas Eve? Why did she catch herself daydreaming of strolling down a snowy lane with Eriol by her side, instead of Sakura? 

This was a betrayal. Sakura was everything good and light and pastel, admittedly a little dense but  _ so pure of heart _ . And Eriol was all cryptic remarks and sardonic comments. If he had a heart under his uniform he kept it well-hidden behind smiles and wordplay. Tomoyo had made her decision long ago: she wanted to be the violet night sky to set off Sakura’s starry light. The black, twining branch to set off the bright cherry petals.

And yet… and yet it was a bit of a relief, too, to fall out of love with Sakura-chan. Tomoyo no longer felt her heart racing at every single thing about Sakura. She could talk to Sakura without worrying that her affection was too forceful. 

Most importantly of all, Tomoyo’s heartache over watching Sakura and Syaoran together… it was fading. And it was good to leave that pain behind. Even Tomoyo’s deepest fears couldn’t change that. And Tomoyo Daidouji had many fears. 

First among those fears, she was terrified of losing Sakura-chan. 

But the thing about cherry blossoms was precisely that: sooner or later, you always lost them. Love them while they last, and let them go when they’re gone. 

And Tomoyo thought to herself,  _ all the world changes. Maybe it’s okay if my heart changes, too _ . 

Because the other thing about cherry blossoms was… they always returned. Not in the exact same form, but in a renewal that was, itself, magical. 

It is early in December when Tomoyo and Eriol are together on cleanup duty after class. Just the two of them. There was snow on the ground-- only an inch, but snow enough to change the entire world with just a glance. There was no ignoring the season’s change anymore. 

Tomoyo, when she reaches the window, stares out at the snow, willing some of its cold and clamminess to seep into her. Because while she’s alone with Eriol, even in such an unromantic capacity as cleanup duty, she can no longer ignore how her stomach flips and her heart flutters.

Yes, the seasons of her heart have changed. And it’s a fool that tries to dress for spring when the snow tumbles down.

“Are you alright, Daidouji?” Eriol asks her, as they finish up. “Your hands are shaking.” 

“I’m fine, just looking at the snow,” she replies too brightly. Then she stops and says, “Eriol, close the doors, please.” 

She turns from the window as he closes the second door. He looks at her with concern. “Are you sure you’re well, Daidouji?” 

“I lied to you, a moment ago,” Tomoyo says, clasping her hands together. “I’m not alright. I miss us, Hiirigazawa-kun. I miss our in-jokes. I miss the evenings at Denny’s. And I miss-- I  _ dearly  _ miss when you’d call me Miss Daidouji.” 

“I miss you too,” Eriol replies. His face has gone very white.

They cross to each other-- Eriol makes only one stride, while Tomoyo makes three. Her heart leaps, noticing how tall and lanky he is all over again. “Say it,” she tells him. “Call me in that distinct English way.” 

“Miss Daidouji,” Eriol says, looking into her eyes. 

“Good,” Tomoyo says, before clasping his hand, standing on tiptoe, and kissing him. 

One kiss is quick. One kiss is a fluke, a fever, something she can hopefully write off later. 

But then he kisses her back. He’s bent a little to meet her, and his hand cups the back of her head. His fingers tangle in her hair but  _ carefully _ , so carefully. Tomoyo’s holding his other hand and she draws it to her waist, draws him in closer to her. She’s never been so bold, she’s never been so  _ close  _ to him, and Tomoyo Daidouji, the careful model citizen, is intoxicated on the English exchange student. 

She’s intent on the taste of him, and her heart ripples and flows with joy, and when their third kiss reaches a sweet end, she can only look up at him with eyes shining. 

“I thought you loved Sakura,” he tells her. He’s one part serious, one part dazed.

“I did,” she admits. “I do. But… it’s changed. She’s in love with Syaoran, and I can finally let her go. She’ll always be dear to me… but I really, really like  _ you _ , right now, Eriol. Can I call you--?” 

“Yes,  _ please _ ,” he says, so she obliges him. She says his name and he kisses her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her cheek, then her mouth again. Their fourth kiss seems destined to outpace the precious previous kisses, until--

The floor dips under Tomoyo. Her first reaction is to throw her arms around Eriol’s neck, and that seems a good decision, because he embraces her back-- they carry on kissing-- until Tomoyo’s eyes flutter open and the classroom is  _ gone _ . 

They are in a sky of black clouds, falling and falling. She clings to him and this time it’s out of sheer panic, and in her periphery vision she sees vast wings stretching out to either side of her.  _ Feathery  _ wings colored like the dawn. 

She hears Eriol’s voice in her ear, he says “Hold on,” and she clings to him and the classroom is back again. Their feet are back on the floor. Tomoyo steps away from Eriol, swaying a little. 

“That was magic?” she asks. She sits at a desk.

Eriol nods. His focus is away from her, intensely inward.

“Your magic, I presume?” 

“Yes,” he replies. He shakes his head, comes back into this moment. “I… I’m not boasting when I say I have so much power it gets away from me. That’s what I… I’m sorry, Tomoyo. I’ve never been happier, and I ruined the moment.” 

“You’ve never been happier?” 

He looks up at her, and the sorcerer is gone. He’s just a scared kid. “Not in this lifetime,” he says with a helpless shrug. 

Tomoyo smiles. “I’m happy, too. You like me, Eriol-kun?” 

“I really like you,” he says, and he reaches across the desk to grip her white hand. “I missed you terribly, these last few weeks. But… with my magic like that… I’m sorry, again. That’s why we can’t quite be together.” 

“That’s the problem,” said Tomoyo. “That’s why you came to Tomoeda. You have too much magical power. I never thought that could be a problem.”

“But it is. That’s why I need Sakura’s help. Only when she’s a fully realized sorceress can she help me. What happened…” 

“What  _ did  _ happen? With the wings and all?” 

“It was an illusion,” he says, “my own feelings given form. This damned magic! If one kiss would send me off like that…” 

“So you’re saying to be together,” she says slowly, “we have to wait until your work with Sakura is complete?” 

“Yes.” Eriol looks at her miserably. 

But Tomoyo is calm again. She takes Eriol’s hand and rests her cheek on it. “Well,” she tells him, “I’m very good at waiting.” 


	5. Chapter 5

The next time Sakura is at Tomoyo’s house, she notices a navy-blue scarf laid carefully on Tomoyo’s sewing table. Tomoyo notices Sakura noticing. 

“That isn’t for you,” Tomoyo pipes up, in a nervous little voice that’s not like her at all.

“Oh! I didn’t think so,” Sakura says. “Navy certainly isn’t my color. I was admiring the embroidery. It’s very hard to see, being just blue on blue.” 

Tomoyo smiles to herself. “It’s for someone with an eye for detail. Someone who will appreciate it.” 

Sakura’s eyes brighten. “Whoever it is, I hope they know how lucky they are, to get a gift like this from you!”

“I daresay they know,” Tomoyo murmurs, but softly enough that Sakura, bless her, doesn’t hear. 

The winter draws over Tomoeda, deepening and darkening. The electric lights on Main Street shine even in snowfall. 

“Why, Miss Daidouji, fancy meeting you here,” Eriol says. 

“Fancy that,” she replies. She smiles, but her eyes are sharp. “Did you know you’d find me here?” 

He holds his hands apart. “I did, and I hate that I did,” he tells her. “There’s no surprises for me… but I did want to see you. My feet moved of their own accord.” 

Tomoyo glances at his boots. “Well, I’m glad you listened to your feet. Shall we look at the lights together?” 

“You aren’t out shopping?” he asks. 

“I am, but I’ve found something to interest me more.” 

For a moment they just smile at each other. Then the moment turns sour. Eriol’s smile fades. “I wish I could offer you my arm,” he says to her. 

“It’s just as well,” she replies, but she drops her eyes. “If someone saw us arm-in-arm, they’d say we’re in love.” 

“Is that a problem?” he asks. 

“I wouldn’t want the reputation of us being a couple, when I can’t have the benefits.” 

“So you’re keeping me a secret?” 

Tomoyo looks up at him again. “A secret close to my heart. Will you please walk alongside me?” He pauses before answering, and she adds, “Does it hurt you, being a secret?” 

“I can bear it,” he answers. “I’m used to keeping the most important parts of me hidden.” He gestures to the sidewalk before them. They fall into step together, side by side but only barely touching. 

They walk along for awhile. Then Tomoyo begins to sing, softly enough for the two of them, “‘ _ I know how it feels to have wings on your heels, and to fly down the street in a trance… _ ’”

_ “The King and I _ ,” says Eriol. “Rodgers and Hammerstein.” 

“Yes!” Tomoyo nods. “‘ _ You fly down the street on the chance that you’ll meet, and you meet, not really by chance _ .’” 

Eriol clears his throat, and sings. “‘ _ Don’t cry, young lovers, whatever you do… _ ’”

Tomoyo’s eyes widen, and her own voice becomes stronger. “ _ ‘Don’t cry because I’m alone, all of my memories are happy tonight…’ _ ”

“‘ _ I’ve had a love of my own… _ ’” Their voices, baritone and soprano, mingle and contrast beautifully in the cold air. By singing, they can touch, and Tomoyo beams, her heart filling up with duets.

The song ends, and Eriol claps his gloved hands in silent applause. “And for our next… do you know  _ Sweeney Todd _ ?” 

Tomoyo laughs out loud. “I am not singing about cannibalism in the middle of Tomoeda!” 

“Oh, c’mon, please?” He bats his eyelashes, which makes her laugh harder. 

“Barcarolle, by Offenbach. Do you know that one?” 

“That’s for two sopranos.” 

“Warm up your upper register, then.” 

He laughs. Snowflakes settle on his black hair, and Tomoyo reaches up to brush them away. He shivers under her touch. The Christmas lights shine around them. They agree to sing “Wunderbar” for their next duet. 

The midnight bells at New Year’s. She drinks apple juice and he drinks wine for a toast, in their separate houses, with their separate families, and they think of each other. 

Everyone can feel the onset of spring. The days grow longer. It feels like there’s energy in the soil and trees-- soil stirring, sap rushing. 

Tomoyo grows restless and makes mistakes in her stitching. She no longer counts down the days until the cherry blossoms appear; she’s counting down the days until the end of school. When will Eriol have to return to England? She doesn’t dare ask. 

Eriol still wears the navy-colored scarf she made for him. He wears it tightly around his throat, like he can keep something inside when everything around him is screaming  _ Springtime! Let a young man’s fancy turn to love! _ Eriol can’t afford to be a young man, sighing dreamily over a young woman. He promised his younger self he would be a cruel sorcerer and rid himself of his excess magic. But his younger self didn’t know  _ her _ . 

Few people notice anything is amiss. Sakura, even in her own distress, notices that Tomoyo looks tired and paler than usual. Syaoran, who has never stopped analyzing Eriol for weakness, notices that the  _ only  _ time Eriol is lost for words is when he looks at Tomoyo. 

It must be admitted, Syaoran does wonder, ‘ _ Does that English brat have a thing for Tomoyo…? _ ’ but then he dismissed it. If Eriol was also pining for a girl, then that would mean Eriol and Syaoran had  _ something in common _ . And that, Li Syaoran would not bear. 

The black boughs of cherry trees remain bare. There are reports of cherry trees blooming to the south, but for the moment, Tomoeda holds its breath. 

The hammer falls. Eriol, flanked by Spinel Sun and Ruby Moon, unmasks himself before Sakura, her own Guardians, and Syaoran. As he tells them, “In my previous lifetime, I was Clow Reed,” he is also weaving a spell of sleep over the people of Tomoeda. 

And he is also speaking to Tomoyo. The girl has fallen asleep, waiting for Sakura to return from the distant past. But Tomoyo dreams.

In her dream, she is standing in a vast, dark plain. Eriol stands opposite her, wearing his sorcerer’s robes. Clothes make the man, they say, and these robes might be magical in and of themselves. They’ve worked a transformation over Eriol, for sure: in the sun-festooned robe, his shoulders are broader, his eyes flash midnight, and he looks like he could be carved of marble. Tomoyo, meanwhile, is still wearing her ordinary street clothes, right down to her scuffed ankle boots. Even more prosaic, she’s still holding her little camcorder. 

“Is this a dream?” she asks. 

“Yes,” he replies. “Tomoyo, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?” 

“I had to send you to sleep-- Sakura must face me now, and face me alone.” 

Her eyes widen. “Is this it?” she asks. “The end of your games with Sakura?” 

“The end,” he agrees. 

“Eriol-- what happens if your plan fails?” 

“Then I will always remain the world’s most powerful sorcerer, and I will curse my bad luck that I was ever born.” His voice is flat, but he can’t entirely hide a trace of bitterness.

“And what have you done to me, exactly?” She holds up the little camcorder, as if framing him for an interview. 

He speaks into the camera. “I have sent you into a sleep from which only Sakura may awaken you. You, and everyone else in Tomoeda who has no magic.” 

She stares at him through the camera lens. “You’re a truly terrifying magician.” 

He doesn’t deny it. “I could wake you up, you know… you could see Sakura’s moment of triumph, just stay hidden…” 

“No, my dear Eriol.” She shakes her head. “I don’t have magic. This really is not my fight. I’ll meet you again, when you can approach me, not as a sorcerer… but as just Eriol.” 

He regards her a moment, and then bows. “As you wish,” he says. 

“Besides…” she sinks to her knees; perhaps to fall asleep within this dream and dream of something deeper still, a world she can stitch into creation… “your magic is enfolding me all around. In that way, you can actually hold me…” She smiles as she falls asleep, leaving him in the world of waking.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the last chapter. Thank you for reading!

He did it. 

_ Sakura  _ did it. 

Eight years of planning and working and yearning, and  _ it worked _ .

Eriol is no longer the most powerful sorcerer in the world. Naturally, he invited Sakura, Syaoran, Keroberos, Yue, and of course Tomoyo over to his house for tea.

It gives him indescribable pleasure to pull the chair out for Tomoyo at his table, to let his hands linger so that he can graze her dark hair. Her eyes follow him, and she’s transmitting delight to him in every glance. Just to sit side by side is sheer bliss. He doesn’t feel impatient anymore. More like the sky is clearing for him after years and years of stormclouds.

“Eriol-kun?” Sakura finally asks. 

Eriol and Tomoyo break eye contact. They have been staring at each other. Eriol stands up and addresses the room. 

Tomoyo watches him as he speaks. It seems to her that a weight has lifted off him-- he’s standing taller than before, breathing easier. 

“So you came all the way out here to meet me, and challenge me, so that I could transform the cards?” Sakura asks him. “All of this was a big plan?” 

“Well…” Eriol looks at Tomoyo. Her hand is extended towards him on the tablecloth, and now,  _ finally _ , he takes her hand and laces their fingers together. “Some things happened that weren’t part of the plan.” 

“I  _ knew  _ it,” Syaoran says, half to himself. 

“What?  _ What _ ?” Kero asks. 

“The two of you? But…” Sakura looks between the two of them. “I can see it, I think…” 

And Tomoyo stifles a laugh. It’s a serious day. It’s not even about  _ her  _ and  _ Eriol _ , but she’s overcome with delight, and  _ giggling  _ like a-- well, like a schoolgirl, which is what she is. A teenager in love. So cliche. So normal. 

For once, a little normal. 

Tomoyo is aware that Syaoran has finally confessed his feelings to Sakura. Not a moment too soon, what with his flight in three days and all. Tomoyo is aware that Sakura is still processing that Syaoran loves her, and she’s not doing great. Tomoyo  _ knows  _ this. 

But it seems very far away, right now, whereas Eriol has just closed the door on Syaoran, Sakura’s guardians, and Sakura herself. Whereas Ruby Moon has excused herself with a giggle, grabbing Spinel Sun on the way out. Whereas now Eriol and Tomoyo are face to face in the foyer, and there’s nothing between them but air. 

And nerves. 

Tomoyo is actually wringing her hands. Now she and Eriol have all the time in the world. They’re alone. They’re awake. But she can’t think of anything to say. 

Eriol is still gripping the doorknob. He’s looking at her and she can tell he feels the precise same way, with an additional layer of…

“So,” Tomoyo says, lightly, “you’ve just achieved the goal of two lifetimes, and it’s not even fouro’clock. What are you going to do now?” 

A slow smile spreads across his face. Softly, he says “Whatever Miss Daidouji wants to do.” 

Tomoyo holds her hands out to him. He takes them, and kisses her knuckles. A flutter begins from deep in her stomach and rises until her entire brain is made of butterflies. 

“Let’s get out of here,” she says. “I could use some fresh air.” 

He helps her into her spring coat. Hand in hand, they go down the side steps. The door of Clow Reed’s old house slowly closes itself behind them.

Tomoyo savors the feel of his hand in hers. She leads the way, stepping lightly over the grass into the shade of a weeping willow tree. There she turns to Eriol, who is dappled with spring sunshine and grinning ear to ear, and she kisses him. 

Several long, sweet moments later, she speaks. “You know what I want to do?” 

“Please,” Eriol says, and he sounds more than a little dizzy. 

“I want to walk into town with you on my arm. I want everyone to see you and me, together.” 

“We can do that,” he says. 

“I want to do the most normal thing possible for a couple. I want to go to the cinema and watch a scary movie so I can hide in your arm and you can hold me tight.” 

“Scary? Are you sure?” 

“If you’re feeling cowardly, we  _ could  _ just sit on a bench and watch the people go by.” 

“Compile lists of the prettiest girls and boys.” 

Tomoyo looks quizzically at him. “Girls and boys? Eriol, are you bi?” 

“Yes. I’m bi,” he says, and his smile only brightens. “I’ve never said that out loud,” he says thoughtfully. “And that’s something else that sets me apart from Clow Reed. He was straight.” 

“Dare I say that, you  _ never  _ have to think about Clow Reed ever again.” 

“That’s a lovely notion, but a bit of an exaggeration…  _ oh _ , Miss  _ Daidouji _ .” 

She’s nuzzling into his neck. “I’m just glad you’re bi like me. Is that petty?”

“Nope. Anything that you and I have in common…” 

She looks up at him and kisses him again and again. “I want to introduce you to my mother.” 

“Let’s go there right now.” 

“Not right now! Maybe in a day or two. Tonight, I want you to be all mine.” 

“I thought you wanted to show me off.” 

“I want to show you off so all the girls and boys of Tomoeda know what they’re missing, because you’re  _ all mine _ .” 

“I am,” he agrees, and they kiss some more. His hand winds through the thick waves of her hair. She pushes his glasses up and looks deeply into his eyes without them, then replaces the spectacles-- “You’re cuter when you can focus,” she says. 

“My optometrist agrees.” 

Tomoyo laughs, and the musical sound carries throughout the garden. “Eriol dear, I want us to have dinner at our Denny’s.” 

“You know that to Americans, Denny’s is literally the least romantic place imaginable. You know that, right?” 

“Good thing we’re not Americans. We’re going to Denny’s.”

“The staff will be scandalized when we can’t stop necking.” 

“I  _ want  _ to scandalize people. But only with someone very dear to me.”

“Well, then. Whatever Miss Daidouji likes,” he says, before ducking his head to oblige her with another kiss. 


End file.
